


Handcuffs (Got You Shackled In My Embrace)

by WennyT



Series: The Dialectic Method [4]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: (at Haley's insistence), Aftercare, Anal Sex, Begging, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho and Changmin play with handcuffs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handcuffs (Got You Shackled In My Embrace)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatkindoftea (haeli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/gifts).



 

* * *

 

The police handcuffs, standard issue ones that come equipped with a key, snap shut; twin circles of cold about Changmin's wrists. He cannot resist, cannot ignore the urge to push and to test. So he yanks, pulls at them, checking their give with his hands, until the metal bites into his skin, steady and reliable. Persisting and unfailing. Just like Yunho.

 

Of course, Yunho does not miss it; he never misses anything Changmin does or says, or any expression that crosses Changmin’s face. There is no comment forthcoming on Changmin’s little stunt though, and Yunho just smiles genially, a cheerful beam that would make more sense if they were onstage receiving an award at some music show, than together in bed like this. But everything between them is never simple, and never makes much sense, especially when Yunho is in control.

 

And right now, it looks like Yunho is the one wholly in control.

 

If Changmin were to be honest, though, it does not just look like it, like Yunho is usually the one in control; that _is_ the way it is, and if Changmin were not reluctant to admit it, he would have to be crazy, because one man’s pride is another man’s shame and all that.

 

Yunho _does_ let him enjoy his periodic power trips, so that is something, at least.

 

"Good?" Yunho inquires amiably, as if they are having tea and chatting about weather conditions, and not discussing the strength of the handcuffs he is currently utilising to keep Changmin tethered to his own bed.

 

"For now." Changmin smiles winningly at him, making sure to curl his tongue about the edges of his teeth in a clear invitation. "Let's just hope you can keep this up, hmm?"

 

Nobody has yet to make Changmin beg, not in less than thirty minutes. And well, Changmin _is_ already hard, which is sort of a given with Yunho in his bed, because they have not fucked for months, what with the rehearsals and overlapping comebacks (all theirs!) and promotional activities.

  
  
They have had barely enough time to even sleep or eat, so he is sort of anticipating this night, but he is hardly desperate yet. And begging comes somewhere beyond desperation, Changmin knows – more from having done it to other people, women, mostly, than from having it done to him. Though the former was not all that often either, and it has been years. What he _does_ know is that he is into instant and not delayed gratification. Two orgasms are always better than one, in his opinion.

 

Of course, Yunho likes to twist everything, up is down and true is false; Changminnie is the leader and not him, Changminnie is the intense, intimidating one while he is not. He is good at that, Yunho is; subverting the truth with affable smiles and cheery laughter, and feeding his adoring audience what they wish to see and nothing more.

 

Sleeping with him, being with him is like riding a prolonged high at the end of a concert, the spike of adrenaline one gets when the choreography of a new dance is mastered for the first time, the very first performance on stage for a comeback; it is one hell of a ride, and you come out of it out of breath and barely seeing straight and convinced you're going to die from the exertion alone.

  
  
But Changmin has discovered that this thing between them –is it love?— is more than worth it, and more than worth the confusing yet exhilarating emotional rollercoaster Yunho brings him on. He finds it simultaneously terrifying and comforting that this is the first relationship he has had where he, Changmin, is the first one to utter “I love you” to the other party.

 

Oh, well. If he _has_ to say “I love you” to anyone first, he wants it to be Yunho.

 

He has also realised that the fantastic sex is a large part (no pun intended) in seducing Changmin into becoming addicted –there is no other way to put it really– to Yunho, because Yunho has a gorgeous cock and talented hips and he is not afraid to use them.

 

Sometimes Changmin cannot believe he is semi-regularly having sex with his closest hyung, his leader, his friend, the man-child with the crooked smile and the thick Jeollado accent he had worshipped in his adolescence; but he is. He _is_.

  
  
Yunho laughs, maybe reading his thoughts, maybe sharing them, maybe not. And then he starts stripping, his biceps bunching up while peeling off his clothes. He does not make it especially seductive, does not make a show of it. But as with everything he does, it is elegant, like his dancing, and the slow, almost methodical reveal of skin makes Changmin's mouth run dry. Especially because Yunho knows Changmin has got a thing for his hips, for his waist and his chest, and Yunho plays to that, and sways, undulates as he undoes his belt, and snucks off his jeans.

  
  
Changmin does not know why, it is not like Yunho is wearing anything sexy, and Changmin has never been one to find a striptease erotic. Interesting, maybe, and slightly arousing, to get one's libido going, but now he is actually painfully hard and Yunho is not showing more skin than what one would see at the swimming pools.

 

Yet the way Yunho is swinging his hips makes Changmin remembers the first time he saw Yunho perform Honey Funny Bunny on the stage, a grainy outline on the stage monitor, hips slow and seductive against the roar of the crowd. Those hips had pressed upwards, humped the air like they do now, and Changmin can feel his mouth going dry, like it did then too. The only thing different is the absence of the coordinators’ yelling in his ears, where they hustle him along to keep moving, to change into another outfit for an upcoming song. Changmin finds that he does not miss them at all.

  
  
Once he is naked, Yunho moves to straddle Changmin's thighs, his own bracketing them, and starts undoing Changmin's belt and jeans as if he has all the time in the world. They had the foresight to take off Changmin's shirt before they put on the handcuffs, and Changmin is rather relieved to have his jeans off too now; they had been feeling rather tight and restricting. Still, he cannot resist a little jab at Yunho’s leisureliness. "I hope you know you're kind of, hmm, wasting time here."

  
  
Yunho sends him an amused glance, but otherwise ignores him in favour of pulling Changmin’s jeans and boxer briefs down his legs. He slides his hands over them, stroking, pausing at one point to run his palms and down Changmin's thighs, rubbing against the springy hair.

 

Changmin used to hate that he is hairy, so much more than the average Asian male— which is a pain when you are working in an industry that requires you to bare skin often and said skin is expected to be less hirsute- but Yunho likes it. He confessed once while they were cuddling after a vigorous bout of sex that he has been fascinated with all the hair on Changmin, ever since they had to live in their old cramped dorm together, years before. And now Changmin does not mind the hair so much, because Yunho loves touching it, loves touching _him_.

  
  
It seems too long, but they are both naked now, and Changmin thinks Yunho is finally going to start, touch him everywhere, drive him insane and dazed with lust, but Yunho does not do any of those things.

 

No, he merely slides up Changmin's body, brushing over Changmin's hard cock perhaps accidentally. But nothing is ever an accident with Yunho, not with how he has been trained since fourteen to never, ever act without deliberate thought and decision. He cups Changmin's face, the gesture oddly tender, incongruent to their current activities, to the way Changmin is pressing his hips upwards, ever so slightly, to the rub of their cocks together.

  
  
Leaning in, Yunho brushes their lips together, a fleeting touch, and croons; "I've always wanted to have you like this."

  
  
Changmin swallows, abruptly remembering that Yunho is dangerous. Oh, not in a violent way, of course, but Yunho has always had a way with words and a way of looking and speaking at a person, as though they are the only two people in the world. And with Yunho close like this, close enough for his eyelashes tickling Changmin's cheeks; Changmin is not sure he will not beg.

 

He is not sure he does not want to.

  
  
Yunho smiles then, a private, almost sly curve of his lips, and kisses him right on the wing of his left cheek, mouth pressed against the arch of the bone. When Changmin blinks, he can feel Yunho's breath fluttering against his own eyelashes.

  
  
"You're delicious, my Changminnie," Yunho says, hushed, like he is revealing a dark secret. Changmin wants to say something cutting, something witty, and he clears his throat in preparation, but Yunho puts a solitary finger on his lips instead, and hushes him. "Not a word."

  
  
It is an order, despite the deceptively soft tone of voice. Steel coated in velvet is still steel after all, no matter how warm and inviting it may seem.

  
  
Changmin swallows, and keeps his mouth shut.

  
  
"I know you, Changdollie," Yunho murmurs, ghosting his mouth down in a light stroke, over Changmin's nose. "My Changdollie. Mine. You pretend you aren’t, that I'm yours instead, but you and I, we both know the truth, don't we? You're mine, and I've wanted to have you like this, completely at my mercy. Doing what I want. Wanting what I want. Begging me," he whispers, mouthing the words into the seam of Changmin's lips. "To do what I want. To you."

  
  
Yunho pulls back. There is a feverish glitter in his eyes, hard and vibrant and knowing, and fuck if that does not make Changmin's ass to clench in anticipation and his cock to jump.

  
  
For a moment they stare at each other, the air charged between them, and Changmin yearns, eagers. _Wants_.

 

Yunho bents over him again, curving a thumb around the pebbled edge of Changmin's nipple, rubbing hard enough for Changmin to stutter mid-inhale and push upwards, slightly; the better to lean into the caress.

  
  
"None of that, now." Yunho licks his lips, wetting them, shaping then into an amiable grin, the one he wears when their juniors in the company flock to him for tips and advice and encouragement. "Maybe later. If you beg, that is."

 

His grin sharpens, turns fiercer, and he allows his hand to slip down, to rest on the jutting bone of Changmin's hip, right next to where Changmin's cock is resting, hard and drooling and eager for attention.

  
  
Changmin cannot hold back a whimper.

 

The corners of Yunho's lips quirk up again, his beam morphing into a more subdued, close-mouthed smirk, the one he employs on stage whenever he wants their fans to start screaming their lungs out. "Someone sounds impatient."

 

He starts to run his fingers across Changmin's too-sensitive skin, like they are little legs, tiny movements back and forth on the tip of his nails, like a cat kneading with its claws out.

 

A frisson of arousal –fuck but Yunho is like hot like this, one of the reasons why Changmin loves going out of his way to rile him up— crawls its way down Changmin's spine, skittering down and around until it ends in another involuntary jerk from his traitorous cock.

  
  
Yunho presses close again, a warm weight half on Changmin, breath hot against his ear. "Before you get too excited and lose what little stamina you have... I'm going to fuck you now."

 

He taps two fingers against the inside of Changmin's thigh. "Spread them."

  
  
At first Changmin does not know what he is talking about; he is adrift in the low timbre of Yunho's voice, and how good it sounds saying "fuck" and "now". It takes him a second too long, two, to gather his bearings. When he gets it, though, he immediately spreads his legs, trying to pretend he meant the pause in his movements, but of course Yunho notices. Yunho always notices everything.

 

Changmin is sparred for a verbal ribbing, but the way Yunho's bottom lip is curling again, into a barely there smirk more than demonstrates his smugness.

  
  
Rocking back onto his heels, folding them beneath his buttocks in a way that allows him to kneel over Changmin, Yunho looks at him, expression a somewhat contradictory mix of serenity and hunger. He slides both hands up the insides of Changmin's thighs, pushing them apart, more, even further. And he leans in again.

  
  
"I'm going to fuck you, Changminnie," he says, soft and low and smooth. "That's a promise. I'm going to fuck you long and hard and give you exactly what you've always been wanting to ask me for, if you hadn't too proud to say anything." Extending his tongue, Yunho bends and licks almost daintily at the indent of Changmin's navel.

 

The light nip that follows has Changmin's toes curling, knees spreading even further so that he can brace his feet against the bed, so that he can shove up against Yunho. He cannot be quiet any longer, cannot quite obey unresistingly anymore. "Fuck you, Jung, and stop talking! Just— just get on with it!"

 

“Nuh uh.” Yunho presses another kiss below, where the line of hair starts, and rests his chin there, tilting his head so he can grin toothily at Changmin. "Only if you beg."

 

Changmin takes a breath, and another.

  
  
"Please," he mumbles, making sure his pronunciation of the plea is as mangled as possible. Not a hard task, through closed lips. The arch of Yunho's brow shows he is more than aware of Changmin's ploy, and he ups the game by pulling upright and shifting closer, until his cock is frustratingly close but yet not touching Changmin on -or in- any part of his body.

  
  
"Say 'please'," he taunts, tracing a line with a fingernail tantalising close to, but not touching Changmin's balls, down, behind, skimping over his perineum, and further back. Changmin tries to straighten his spine, so that his hips can tilt up, closer, to Yunho's hand. But Yunho pulls away instead, curling his fingers into a loose fist upon his own knee. "I'm not going to touch you unless you say 'please'."

  
  
"Please!" Bursts out from Changmin, in a furious exhalation. "I just- touch me. Touch me!"

  
  
Yunho rewards him with a thumb flicking across the head of Changmin's cock, but it is too little and too fast and he pulls back too soon. Changmin yanks at the handcuffs restraining him, no longer testing, but actively protesting. "No, come back- _please_!"

  
  
"Aren't we eager," Yunho notes, voice innocuously pleasant, and then it hardens to something Changmin always calls 'Yunho's Leader Voice', and it sends another fucking thrill through Changmin's body. It is basically the tone of voice that Changmin loves to hear from Yunho when they are in bed and hates to encounter anywhere else.

 

If this keeps up, Changmin thinks he will come before Yunho even starts to prepare Changmin for his cock.

  
  
It takes five slow seconds before he registers the authoritative "show me how eager you are. Show me how much your ass is begging for me."

  
  
Changmin does not even think about it, he just lets out another stifled "please" and pulls up his knees to his chest- or attempts to, because he is handcuffed and he cannot quite use his arms to hold his legs up by hooking them behind his knees. But he tries anyway, and succeeds somewhat. Because even though he is not as good a dancer as Yunho, he is still a goddamned dancer, and he is still flexible to a certain degree, contrary to popular opinion.

  
  
The position is lewd, obscene; Changmin knows everything is on display, and that he is spread open, like a whore open -literally- for business, and Yunho can see _everything_. He can feel himself clenching-unclenching under Yunho's narrow-eyed gaze, which is intense and unblinking. But he does not care.

  
  
He will just like to get fucked before the next century dawns, pretty please and thanks very much.

  
  
"Please," he finds himself repeating again, already breathless. He forces himself to stare steadily into Yunho’s eyes, and enunciates as crisply as he can. "Please fuck me, please-"

 

"Ah, ah," Yunho croons, interrupting him, but Changmin does not care because suddenly Yunho's fingers are there, wet and slick with lube (when did he get it but Changmin doesn't care he just wants to be fucked _ohgodhewantsYunhotofuckhimalready_ ), sliding in between Changmin's cheeks, to curl teasingly about, around him, but not quite _into_ him.

 

A finger traces about the entrance, around and around and around bit never dipping in, never lingering. "Are you begging for this?"

 

" _Yes_ ," Changmin breathes, they have barely started and he is already wrecked and he knows he probably should be angry about this and fuck but yes- _yes_ \- Yunho's fingers are inside him now, long and sure and familiar, but he does not want them, he wants Yunho's cock, Yunho's long and beautiful and hard cock, oh but _please_ he wants Yunho's cock-

 

He says as much, and keeps up a litany of "please"s, chants them, really. But Yunho does not do shit, just smiles down at him, calm and benevolent as you fucking please, and says "patience, Changminnie" even as his fingers are crooked into Changmin, stretching and scissoring and just avoiding his prostate but they are not enough, Changmin has said 'please', he _has_ begged, and it is _not_ fair of Yunho to- of Yunho to-

 

His mind blanks, as Yunho shoves his cock into him, into Changmin at last, steady and slow, the pressure unrelenting, even with preparation and ample foreplay. Above him, Yunho's face is angled downwards, his gaze directed to where they are joined, where he is pushing into Changmin, and even though he tries to look placid and calm, there is a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his face, and Changmin allows himself a moment to feel proud that he put it there.

 

The moment lasts until Yunho starts to move, not pausing to allow both of them to adjust- Changmin to the feeling of Yunho in him again, after too long; Yunho to how hot and tight and eager Changmin feels, about him. He drags his cock out, a little, pulling a long groan out from Changmin, and a softer, muted one from Yunho.

  
  
"Please." Changmin chokes out, the edges of the handcuffs digging into the flesh just beneath his palms, his hands clenched into fists at how good Yunho feels inside him. He sucks in a breath and deliberately relaxes, then tightens his muscles. "Please, please, _please_ -"

  
  
"Please, what?" Yunho pants into his ear, arms braced about Changmin's head, hips swivelling to a sinuous rhythm that drags the head of his cock in a slow grind within Changmin, just _so_ , against the spot his fingers had previously avoided, and that makes Changmin start to pant, mouth falling open, eyes almost closed in slits of dazed pleasure.

  
  
"Please- fuck- me-" Changmin manages to squeeze out, from between slackened lips, as Yunho slides home again, all the way, tucked in snug and tight, their balls pressed up against each other's, and even though there is pain as well as the pleasure, Changmin never wants him to leave. He longs to put his arms around Yunho and hold on tight, tight like how he is hugging Yunho’s cock. But, but— "Harder. Fuck- me- harder, _please_!"

  
  
"Since you asked so nicely," Yunho hums, arms slipping around Changmin's still raised legs, arranging them until they are bent over his own shoulders, and then he is gripping at the top of Changmin's knees with both hands. The new position changes the angle of their fucking, opens up Changmin even further, so that Yunho can ram his cock into Changmin harder, faster.

  
  
The first push slams Yunho's cock nicely against Changmin's prostate, sending a bolt of pure unadulterated pleasure through Changmin. It makes his inner muscles clench about Yunho in involuntary spasms, something that drags a series of groans from the other even as Yunho pulls out, almost all the way, until just the head of his cock was pressing against Changmin's rim, and then back in again, all the way until the hilt.

  
  
"Yes, l-like that, p-please," Changmin rasps out, too far gone to remember how to speak properly. "Please, please!"

  
  
Yunho fucks in time to his pleas, timing his thrusts to the words, drilling his cock into Changmin every time a "please" falls from the latter's lips. Changmin can feel his back arching, his spine bowing as he strains to get close, _closer_ to Yunho, and he tugs at the handcuffs again, the sparks of pain a deliciously sharp counterpoint to the pleasure flooding him.

  
  
At the speed Yunho is going, at the way way their hips are smacking against each other’s, Changmin knows he is going to feel this for a week, if not more. He hopes there will be bruises, along his pelvic bone, down the inside of his thighs, ringing the circumference of his knees. He wants there to be mementoes, souvenirs of today, so that they can serve as little reminders and incentives.

 

He knows that every single time he walks, that he sits, that he dances; he is going to feel the pain and the ache and the pull _and he cannot fucking wait_.

  
  
Yunho reaches down to grasp at Changmin's cock, all without breaking his rhythm, and Changmin feels his toes curl and a whine escaping his lips; he knows he sounds needy and begging but he does not have it in him to give a fuck, because Yunho is growling now, growling and snapping his hips against Changmin's even as he keeps a hand clenched about Changmin's right thigh to keep it on his shoulder, while his left hand curls about the rigid length of Changmin's dick.

  
  
Yunho strokes, fingers and palm still sticky with residual lube, the calluses on the skin of his palm adding onto the delicious friction of his hand gripping tight about Changmin. Precome bubbles, a white strip from the slit atop the head, and Changmin chokes on a half scream, half moan as Yunho uses his index finger to smear the semen about the flaring crown of the head, and down, along the vein on the underside.

  
  
Writhing, head turning from side to side, sweat-drenched hair in his eyes, Changmin keens and loses it as he more feels than sees Yunho trace a fingernail along the slit on the head of Changmin's cock. Yunho tightens his grip then, firm and sure about Changmin's length to pump once, twice, even as he fucks hard into Changmin, even as he climaxes, hot come spurting from him against the bump of Changmin's prostate, mouth biting down hard against the juncture where Changmin's neck meets his shoulder.

 

The mixture of stimuli, of pleasure and pain, of Yunho hard in his ass and tight about his dick and hot against his neck is more than enough to set Changmin off; he jerks, cock quivering in Yunho's hand, and comes, spurting stripes of pearly white against Yunho's chest and abdomen. He vaguely hears someone whimpering, high pitched and sated and weak, and realises with some surprise that it is himself.

 

Yunho collapses on him, one hand already reaching towards the nightstand for the key to the handcuffs, his come hot and sticky between their stomachs. He presses a soft, chaste kiss onto Changmin's cheek, something Changmin finds endlessly amusing considering their activities up till seconds ago.

 

"Good, Changminnie?" He mumbles, face still tucked into Changmin's neck. "Was it good?"

 

"Mm, yeah. Very, very good," Changmin answers, lazy and well-satisfied and all fucked out. He rubs at his wrists once Yunho unlocks the handcuffs, collecting them and the key in a hand to toss back onto the nightstand. “ _Extremely_ good. Ex’llent. H’much time did I take?”

 

Yunho starts at the question, lifting his head from Changmin’s neck, a sheepish look forming on his handsome features. “Oh- I forgot to stop the timer the first time you said ‘please’.”

 

“S’okay,” Changmin throws Yunho a lopsided grin, rotating his wrists in an attempt to lessen the tell-tale prickling of the pins and needles that comes with returning blood flow. “The fuck cares about timing, let’s do this again next time. Maybe after the tour.”

 

“I told you you would love it, didn’t I?” Yunho’s smile widens, even as his gaze is drawn towards Changmin’s wrists, and he reaches for them.

 

“Yeah, yeah, stop boasting.” Now that he is off of the sexual high, Changmin is starting to notice the chafing and the redness. The pain is not unmanageable; it is just a barely there throb, but there is no doubt that Yunho will fuss over him for the next week whenever Changmin's wrists enters his sight.

 

It seems like he does not even have to wait till the next day or the next week. Yunho's mouth is on his wrists now, licking a firm strip along the marks, soothing them with the flat of his tongue.

 

Changmin takes advantage of the fact that his fingers are barely an inch away from Yunho's mouth and strokes them along the beautifully lush curve of Yunho's lip, swollen from Yunho biting on it as he fucked Changmin. He walks his fingers along the swollen redness and pretends his fingers are giving it, giving Yunho little kisses.

 

Nuzzling against the slender digits, Yunho speaks with his mouth bisected by them. "Time to clean you up now, Changdollie."

 

"No," Changmin pulls his hand away, only to coil it around Yunho's bicep, and to coil himself about Yunho. He is still ensnared in the afterglow, because that really was some mind-blowing brilliant splendid outstanding sex, and musters up just enough energy to mutter, "no. Want to cuddle first. Love you."

 

Yunho's answering grin is a sweet parabola against the jut of Changmin's clavicle, familiar and comforting; as is the soothing trickle of his fingers against the already purpling bruise on Changmin’s neck, as is the echoing "I love you, too" that he breathes against the underside of Changmin's jaw.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy April Fool's! This is technically a part of Pas De Deux, but I wanted to let Haley's birthday fic (posted here after much deliberation) be a standalone. Comments help me improve and water my soul with love.


End file.
